


Pretending They Are Beside You

by candyisdandy



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-28
Updated: 2013-02-28
Packaged: 2017-12-03 22:41:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/703431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/candyisdandy/pseuds/candyisdandy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm sorry</p></blockquote>





	Pretending They Are Beside You

Musichetta sat in her bed that once would hold three. Her boys, her best friends, her lovers. Dead. And for what? For that angelic curly haired blonde god who preached about a new world. Well, she was stuck in this new world and it wasn't very different from everything before. Except she was all alone.

She had always had flings, one night stands, a couple of fucks in the dark. Never anything serious. Until they came along. What a pair. Joly, the medicine student, terrified of germs. Bossuet, the ridiculously sweet and gentle man who broke all her vases on his first visit. They were both more than a quick shag. The three of them were best friends.

Gone.

Gone were the days of laughing at Bossuet's ever decreasing luck. He certainly wasn't lucky at the barricade. She giggled softly to herself. There was no one to laugh with her.

Gone was the teasing of Joly's terror of the plague or hypothermia or the common cold. It wasn't a disease that killed him in the end. The bullet worming its way into his heart, slowly draining the life from him. It had done the same to the girl sat in a room meant for three, remembering the men who made her whole.

She looked down at her long fingers. Two were adorned with simple gold bands. Not a very traditional wedding, but beautiful. Grantaire had showed up late, completely wasted, yelling about the sanctity of marriage. He was one to talk. Enjolras had sat very quietly, no doubt with some burning passionate speech to give kept tucked away for fear of ruining their day. Courfeyrac kissed all three of them on the lips and reminded them that he would always be there for back up. Their friends, who had become her friends too. They were all together now, and she was stuck in Paris.

It had lost its allure and mystery. The smoke that had once thrilled her with the unknown now made her wheeze and wish for clear air. The buildings crammed together so tightly, which had firstly been sweet, now just pissed her off. Who knew that with two bullets a whole city could change?

Her eyes were drawn to the box in the corner. The box that had had Bousset's kind face in a frown, concern etched across his eyes. "I don't want you to ever have to open this." he had said, their foreheads resting together. "But whe- if, _if_  something happens to Joly and I at the barricades, if you need us, open it." Well, she needed them more than ever now. A few hours after the final battle. There wouldn't even be a funeral for the students who died for a lost cause.

She slowly lifted the latch from the mahogany box. This must be special, she thought to herself. They spent money on it. A pistol sat on the velvet. A tiny piece of parchment addressed to her in Joly's small economical writing was balanced on the handle. She unfolded it, and read their last legacy to her.

_Musichetta,_  
 _You're reading this so we must have died. I'm sorry. This is something you can't cure me of. But we hope we can cure you. The gun is either for you, or to be tucked away, so you can get on with your life. You know we want you to carry on without us, but I know what I would choose if I was left alone. I love you so much, mon cherie, and I will see you soon._  
 _Joly._

A sad smile played at her lips. This was inevitable. They knew her well enough to know that she couldn't refuse this opportunity.

She rested the cold barrel against her temple. Silence rang throughout the empty room. She murmured a quick prayer, and goodbye to her brother. "Bossuet, Joly." she said aloud. "If I don't join you wherever you are, you better not find another girl." Satisfied with her note, she took one final deep breath.

**Bang.**

All the living evidence of any who suffered by the hands of this revolution was obliterated. The river of red grew ever higher. Musichetta's body was slumped over the bed for three, and she was with her two

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry


End file.
